


Glances and Glares

by IrishWitch58



Category: Whyborne and Griffin - Jordan L. Hawk
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Painters, paperhangers and suspicious behavior. Whyborne makes some assumptions.





	Glances and Glares

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of me painting my own place and allowing my weird imagination and paint fumes to impair my judgement. I apologize.

Glances and Glares

“Ival, have you cleared the study desk yet? I already made sure all the clothing is in the wardrobes.” This pronouncement had me staring at Griffin open mouthed. 

“Whatever for?” I managed. I frantically counted backwards and glanced at the calendar, seeing tomorrow's date circled. Drat. I had forgotten.

“The painters and paper hangers are coming tomorrow, Ival. We did speak about this.” Griffin smiled gently. He knew I didn't like the idea of strangers around the house. When he had proposed the idea of repainting and papering to make the house look more modern and prosperous, I had initially objected. He had pointed out, quite rightly, that it would make a better impression on his clients. And I wanted him to be successful and happy in his work and if a week of workmen about the place was the price, I would gladly pay it. I had managed, however, to push the idea so thoroughly to the back of my mind, I had all but forgotten it. No, that was dishonest. I just didn't want to deal with it. 

I sighed and stepped over to him. “Of course. I will make sure to clean up the desk.” I gave him a kiss which quickly developed into three or four. “I'll simply be sure to stay at the museum and keep out of their way.” 

He gave me a quite lecherous grin and headed for the stairs. “Finish with the study and meet me in the bedroom. It's the last time you'll see that hideous paper on the walls and we can celebrate.”

 

The workmen arrived at seven, just as I was leaving the house. I watched as a troupe of six large men marched up the walkway carrying buckets and tools and ladders. They all wore white coveralls and caps except for one fellow in a simple gray suit who greeted Griffin at the door and introduced himself as Mr. Wolfe, the supervisor. I became aware of the second to last man in the row turning to look at me. Was he suspicious of my presence in the house? Boarders were not uncommon. Was there something wrong with my hat? A quick check assured me it was in place. Good heavens he was huge. Blonde, likely Scandinavian. He turned away, apparently attending to one of his fellows. I went a few steps down the sidewalk and felt the hair on my neck prickle and turned. The man was watching me again although he quickly turned away when I looked back. I continued on my way to work, trying to quell the uneasiness. 

 

“Oh, do calm down, Whyborne. It isn't as if we aren't all inconvenienced.” Christine hefted a leather bag filled with manuscripts in one hand and her overlarge purse in the other. I might have offered to help her if my own arms weren't similarly overburdened with my current work and several heavy reference volumes. 

I looked at the other displaced employees scattered over the steps of the museum, scholars and researchers reduced to pathetic refugees by a horrifying invasion. They all looked as bewildered as I felt. “Christine, this is horrible. The entire main wing closed for pest control? It's outrageous.”

“I don't much like it either but I like the idea of being plagued by insects or poisoned by the exterminators' chemicals even less.” Christine shot to the edge of the curb and darted ahead of one of our less observant colleagues and caught the cab he had been trying to hail, gesturing me impatiently to step in. “Anyway, it should only be a few days and we'll be able to go back. Until then we work on whatever we can at home. The director did say everyone will be paid as usual.”

“You don't understand, Christine. This is the week Griffin has the painters in. How can I work with people around? And besides, one of them was looking at me very oddly. I rather suspect he might be a spy.” 

“Hmph, Many people look at you oddly.” She was not being helpful.

“But what if it's a sign of some new cult activity? Getting someone into our house...”

“Not every person in Widdershins is involved in murderous cult activity. Not even every odd person. Besides, even if you're right, you'll want to be home to keep an eye on poor defenseless Griffin.” Christine gave me no chance to reply as she retrieved her bags and exited the cab at the house she now shared with her husband. I stared morosely out the window as the cab continued on to the house Griffin and I had so happily shared. Both my work and my home were under siege by invaders. I had faced inhuman horrors. I could deal with this.

I exited the cab, hefted my books and headed up the walk. I fumbled a moment trying to manage the door when it abruptly opened. To my shock it was not Griffin but one of the workmen, indeed the very one who had been staring at me earlier. He smiled and addressed me. “Those look a bit heavy, sir. May I help?” To my utter shock, he grabbed the top few books and asked, “Where should I put these, sir?” 

Options were few. He was too physically imposing for me to retrieve the items by force. A spell seemed to be a bit much. Besides, Griffin would disapprove of such an action in the front hallway. I pointed to the stairs. “Um, the study upstairs, please.” He might be a spy of some evil master but manners were something I was not going to dispense with. He gave a cheery grin and marched up the stairs as directed, placed the books gently on the desk and exited the room, touching a finger to his cap and winking at me. I sat down, stunned. I was obviously right. He was sending signals of some sort. Maybe it was fortuitous I was here. I left the study door open and spread out some innocuous translation work from an old Greek text. The crew was working on the bedrooms first and from here I could keep them under observation.

 

Two hours later I was even more convinced the blonde giant had to be a minion of something truly heinous. He contrived to walk past the doorway multiple times, using whatever equipment as a pretext, sneaking glances at me every time. Griffin came upstairs with Mr.Wolfe to examine the apparently completed bedrooms early in the afternoon. Griffin seemed shocked to see me but concluded his conversation before joining me and closing the study door. “I wasn't expecting to see you until late, my dear.” He perched on the corner of the desk, He laid a strip of something on top of my papers and asked, “What do you think of this pattern for the downstairs parlor?”

I eyed the wallpaper swatch of burgundy and pale green stripes and nodded. “It seems sufficiently prosperous looking,” I ventured. “Is the work going as expected?” I must have looked very hopeful indeed.

“On schedule,” Griffin assured me. “As much as I delight in seeing you, I thought you were to be at the museum?”

“The museum is infested with some type of insect and being fumigated. And, as valued employees, we were not to be subjected to the poisonous chemicals. We were all evicted from our offices.” I gestured to the profusion of papers on the desk. “I'm to work from home until they allow us to go back.”

“Well, not to worry. They crew haven't been terribly noisy and when they need to work here, we'll have the parlor downstairs for you to move to.” He gripped my hand reassuringly. “Come down and have some lunch with me.” 

I trailed my love down the stairs, grateful the workers also appeared to be taking their lunch. Griffin set a plate with a sandwich in front of me and seated himself opposite me. I was facing the window that looked on the side yard. The painting crew were seated on the low rock wall beneath the hedge. I applied myself to the sandwich, being hungrier than I had thought. Griffin was relating some story about one of his clients which was amusing. The light in his eyes was captivating as always. I found myself drawn in, smiling gently back at him. Movement outside the window caught my attention and I looked up in horror to see the blonde workman staring at me with an expression I might expect to see on a child at a candy store window. I looked quickly down at my empty plate. It was worse than I had thought. What hideous purpose was behind this? What reward was he promised? 

“What's wrong?” Griffin looked over his shoulder but the workers had begun to gather up their lunch pails. There was nothing to see.

By 6 that evening the painters had departed. I had spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to focus on my translation and failing miserably. I kept looking at the hallway just outside the study door. The work had progressed from the now complete bedrooms to the upstairs hallway. The blonde fellow was painting the trim and seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time on the study doorjamb. It was disconcerting in the extreme to catch him peering around the edge of the door and ducking back when I looked up and caught him at it. At least he had the good grace to flush with embarrassment when his poor espionage skills were thwarted. I wondered why someone so obvious was sent to spy. It seemed inefficient.

I looked on with relief as Mr. Wolfe marshalled up his workers and headed them out to the large wagon. There were supplies left in the side yard covered with a canvas, an unwelcome reminder that I would have to deal with the incursion again tomorrow. Inside, aside from a lingering aroma of drying paint, there was little trace of the invading presence. 

I began to relax a bit during dinner and helped Griffin clean up the kitchen. He preceded me upstairs and I made the rounds to make sure the downstairs windows were latched and the door locked. Saul, who had not been seen much all day, had appeared for dinner and now followed me on my rounds and then upstairs. He sniffed the door frames, sneezed twice and retreated to the study to bully a cushion into the desired shape, curling up on it with a put upon sigh. 

I entered the bedroom that had originally been Griffin's but now was just ours. A breeze drifted through the windows. Only one lamp was on, it's glass shade casting a more subdued glow than the ones in the more public areas of the house. “Well, my dear. What do you think?” Griffin gestured broadly at the newly papered walls but I had eyes only for him. He was quite brazenly naked, stretched out on his side on the bed. I must have looked an utter idiot, just staring. I finally swallowed hard and began to disrobe. Griffin settled back, grinning even more broadly, the beast. 

“I think,” I finally managed, “that I am already tired of painters.” I forestalled his comments. “But you were correct. The work is progressing and the house looks improved.” I advanced to the bed and Griffin stretched like a cat and his green gaze drew me as it always did.

“Perhaps I can offer you some reward for your forbearance?” The mischievous look left no doubt as to what the reward might entail.

I frowned and feigned a thoughtful consideration. “I suppose you might contrive to do so.” He edged nearer and placed a hand on my hip. I sighed and brushed a hand through his hair as he kissed and fondled my already enthusiastic flesh. His fingers stroked backward and I locked my knees to keep my balance. One might think that so many repetitions of loving acts might render them mundane but that never seemed the case with us. Every time was a new pleasure to share. Griffin shifted quickly to his back and his head slid over the edge of the mattress. His tongue caressed my sack and his fingers gripped my thighs and I closed my eyes and gave out a low moan of appreciation. He nudged me back a bit with his hands then tugged me forward and I opened my eyes in shock as he swallowed my length. I felt the glide of his tongue and the grasp of his throat and tried to pull back, fearful of hurting him in this position. His hands held me too firmly and he began to rock me forward and back. I followed the suggested rhythm. He obviously wanted me to lose my mind. It was equally obvious that he was as excited as I was, his own erection stiff and weeping. I began to move a bit more definitely and he gave a soft groan, the sensation vibrating up my spine. It didn't take long before I hunched forward, spilling down his throat and pulling gently free. I crawled over him somewhat inelegantly, thinking to return the pleasure but the first touch of my hand had him thrust up and reach his own climax. His face displayed utter satiation when I was able to drag myself around to look. We curled up in each others arms, sweat drying in the warm breeze that ruffled the curtains. 

Griffin finally moved us up the mattress and tugged the sheet over us, knowing the night would eventually cool considerably with the sea breeze. “So?” he hinted, head tucked into my shoulder.

“That was a wonderful reward, although I did worry just a bit about hurting you in that position.” I tightened my arm a bit and kissed the top of his head.

“You're always careful of me, my dear. And you are obviously not too happy about the painters and the museum. I thought the best way to get your mind off all the upset was to make sure you couldn't think at all, at least for a little while.” He placed a kiss on the pulse point of my neck. “I think I managed that.” I tensed minutely. I didn't wish to break the mood. “I can see the effect was, indeed, temporary.” Griffin sighed and sat up a bit. “So what is going through that brain of yours now?”

I still felt foolish but if it were a plot, we might both be at risk. Better safe than sorry. “One of the painters...he keeps, er...looking at me in an odd way. He seems much too interested and I am concerned he may be a spy for some new cult or society.”

Griffin didn't laugh. He gave it some thought. “I didn't notice anything unusual but I wasn't really looking for anything suspicious. Mr. Wolfe's services came highly recommended and he assured me all his workers have been with him for some time, all reliable working men. Which one in particular concerns you?”

Consoled that Griffin was accepting of my unease, I unburdened myself. “The very large blonde fellow, the one who was painting the hall trim this afternoon. He carried my books upstairs when I came in. Just took them. And he kept peering around the door to the study as he was painting. He even winked at me. I am sure he's up to something.”

Griffin nodded. “I will be sure to watch him tomorrow. I don't plan to say anything to Mr. Wolfe. If it proves to be nothing, it would be a very poor thing to raise suspicions to his employer. The man may still be innocent of any wrongdoing.”

I consoled myself Griffin was just being fair and he was sure to uncover whatever nefarious doings were afoot.

 

The following morning dawned clear and pleasant. Unfortunately, I had to hurry and dress and remove my current work from the study to the parlor. I turned from the desk at the sound of steps on the stairs, expecting to see Griffin. I smiled as I turned, holding out a stack of papers and books. “Lend a hand please?” The smile froze on my face as the figure in front of me nodded eagerly and hefted the stack with a broad smile.

“Anything else, sir?” My blonde nemesis stood before me, my books once again in his clutches. His face unaccountably pinked as he looked at me. Perhaps he had been out in sun this morning? 

Unable to think of anything else, I gestured at the stairs. “Downstairs parlor please.”

“Certainly, sir. No reason for a fine gentleman to do his own fetching and carrying.” I followed him down the stairs, watching as he placed the stack carefully on the edge of the parlor table and squared it up, patting the top cover gently. He turned back to me and touched his cap. “Anything else you might need, just ask for Fred. That's me.” He punctuated this with a meaty finger pointed at his own chest. He winked again and moved past me back to the stairs. I dragged my eyes away from the man to see Griffin standing in the hall. His eyes twinkled with an unholy light and he was fighting back laughter. 

I scowled. “You saw that? He's up to no good. 'Fred' indeed.”

“I imagine he is up to something,” Griffin agreed, “although not in the way you mean.”

“That's even more cryptic than you accuse me of being.” The cur was actually giggling now. He closed the door and sank down on one of the parlor chairs before burying his face in his hands and giving in to gales of outright laughter. He eventually composed himself and caught his breath. 

“My dear Ival, I always knew you left a trail of broken hearts among the susceptible ladies we have encountered but this is the first instance I can recall when you've had the same effect on a young man of our tendency.” I gaped, entirely lost. Aware of my utter confusion, he rose and drew me into a gentle embrace. “He's flirting with you.”

“You can't be serious,” I blurted out. “I can't believe that.”

“”Oh, I am entirely serious. Poor fellow is smitten. He looks at you with absolute calf eyes. He blushes like a schoolgirl and is tripping over himself to do anything to get you to notice him. It's actually rather sweet.”

I straightened and stammered out, “I never did anything to encourage him...”

“Of course you didn't, my love. You were just being you. Haven't I told you I feel lucky we live here in Widdershins. In many a larger city I would have serious concerns about the number of men who would vie for your attention and your company.”

I thought for a moment. Griffin had commented on the like before. He had a very different opinion of my looks than I did. And he was more comfortable with personal interactions than I. Something suddenly occurred to me. “Good heavens, what if he says something?”

“He won't,” Griffin said confidently. “He may seem a bit forward but the social gap and concern for his employment will keep him from making any real advances. In any case the work will be done by the end of the week. I suggest you merely go on as you have but without the anxiety over cults.” He kissed my forehead and placed a hand on the door. “It is interesting though. The poor fellow likely goes home and has you figuring prominently in his dreams.” He exited before I could throw a book at him. I sighed and turned back to the table. It was going to be a very long week indeed.


End file.
